The storm hadn't passed.
Outside, the wind clawed at the windows like it knew something like it wanted in. But inside the Alpha's den, something far more dangerous stirred.
Theron hadn't moved much since Noah fell asleep in his arms. The fire had died down to embers, casting a faint red glow across Noah's peaceful face. But peace was fleeting. Theron could feel it. A disturbance that went beyond instinct.
He eased out from beneath Noah carefully, making sure not to wake him, and moved to the window, staring out into the woods.
Something was wrong.
There was a scent on the air foreign. Sharp. Bitter like iron and dust. Rogues. Maybe even worse.
He bared his teeth silently.
The pack hadn't been attacked in months, not since he'd executed the last rogue who dared cross the border. But this... this wasn't a simple trespass.
This was a warning.
Behind him, Noah stirred. "Theron?" His voice was sleep-soft, still warm from rest.
Theron turned, his face tightening. "Get dressed."
Noah sat up, brows furrowed. "What's going on?"
"I need to check the perimeter."
"I'm coming with you."
"No," Theron snapped, then softened at the flash of hurt in Noah's eyes. "Please, stay here. Just for now."
Noah rose anyway, bare feet padding across the floor. "I'm not a fucking fragile flower, Theron. I can handle myself."
"I know you can," Theron growled, grabbing his arm, "but I need to know you're safe while I deal with whatever the hell is lurking out there."
Noah stared up at him. "Then come back to me."
That one line hit Theron in the chest like a blow. He nodded once, then kissed Noah hard, fast, desperate and was gone.
Outside, the woods were thick with fog. Shadows crept where moonlight should've touched, and Theron's wolf strained beneath his skin, teeth itching, eyes burning gold.
He wasn't alone.
A flicker to the left movement. He lunged, shifting mid-stride. Fur tore through skin, bones cracked, and his wolf emerged in a blur of power and fury.
The figure he tackled wasn't a rogue. It was worse.
A Hunter.
Clad in dark armor, reeking of wolfsbane and cold steel, the man grinned through bloodied lips. "Alpha Theron," he spat. "Finally come out to play."
Theron didn't give him a chance to speak again. He snapped the man's arm in one bite, threw him against a tree, and snarled, "Who sent you?"
The Hunter coughed, then smirked. "You'll find out soon enough. We're not here for you, Alpha. We're here for your omega."
Theron stilled.
Something cold slithered down his spine.
He tore the man apart before the bastard could say another word.
Back in the den, Noah was pacing.
He felt it that shift in the air. Like the world had stopped holding its breath and finally started screaming.
The front door slammed open, and Theron stalked in, shirt torn, blood across his hands and chest.
Noah rushed to him. "Are you hurt?"
"No," Theron said hoarsely, gripping his face. "But someone is hunting you. They know about you. About us."
Noah blinked. "Hunters?"
Theron nodded, jaw tight. "And this wasn't random. Someone sent them someone who wants you gone or used against me."
Noah's stomach flipped. "Why?"
"Because you're mine," Theron growled, voice like gravel, "and they think taking you will break me."
Noah's hand found his. "Then let's show them what happens when they fuck with the wrong Alpha. And the wrong omega."